


Twenty-Minute Challenge #4

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Loyalty, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: A few minutes' of uncertainty outside a warehouse for our intrepid duo.
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Kudos: 14





	Twenty-Minute Challenge #4

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my stories from the Starsky&Hutch911 livejournal site, originally posted on 6/25/2016. The prompt words for the challenge were 'vice' and 'bitch.'  
> Slight edits have been made for this cross-posting.

Damn, the old woman had his left wrist in a death grip! Starsky knew he was never gonna live this down.

He’d bought her disheveled appearance hook, line and sinker. Her filthy hair, layered rags, cracked and dirty bare feet, scabbed, wrinkled hands with their broken nails, sunken toothless mouth, and watery eyes, all pointed to a long time street sleeper. And she smelled! A combination of rank body odor, cigarettes and cheap booze the likes of which Starsky had never encountered before had very nearly made him disgorge the excellent burger and fries he’d eaten at Huggy’s.

He’d only wanted to help her to a safe place so that the cops from Vice wouldn’t run roughshod over her, getting to the captive girls’ prison. He had bent down, taking her arm gently, whispering his intentions but she fought him immediately.

Scratching and clawing, she'd screamed, “Cops, Charlie! Cops are here. Get out! Get out now. Run, you bastards, run!”

Geez, how was he supposed to know she was their lookout?

He never even felt her lift his weapon but was suddenly aware that his holster was empty and the muzzle of the Beretta was uncomfortably poking into the soft spot under his chin. The thought ran through his mind, _Huh, another lefty!_

“Uh, lady,” he said, quietly.

Before she could decide what she was going to do with him, a hand descended onto her shoulder, long, supple fingers pinching into the nerves there.

She shrieked and the gun fell away from Starsky's throat. He grabbed it before it hit the asphalt. Looking up into the concern on his partner’s face, he thought there was a chance his ass might not be grass in the precinct, after all. If any of the other cops had seen his predicament though….

“Don’t worry, partner,” Hutch said, kindly. “Your secret’s safe with me. ”

Starsky took a deep breath of gratitude.

Detectives and uniforms from several precincts crowded into the alley.

“We got ‘em all, Starsky,” one hollered. “And the girls are safe.”

Starsky stood up, only a little shakily. “That’s good.” His voice sounded almost normal, which surprised him.

Hutch hauled the shabby woman to her feet and braced her against the wall. His search produced an automatic, three knives, brass knuckles and a sap.

Starsky’s eyebrows almost reached his hairline. “That is the last time I ever judge a book by it’s cover,” he told Hutch.

“Probably wise,” Hutch said, cuffing her hands behind her back.

Two uniforms approached, took possession of all the weapons and the prisoner.

As she was led away, she spat at Starsky. “Bitch!” she screamed.

“Hey,” Starsky said, offended. “That’s my line.”


End file.
